Someday
by ComingToYouLive
Summary: After Brendan's death, Ste struggles to cope with life without him. It's a two-chapter fic. Enjoy :)


**So, this isn't how the fic was supposed to be posted, as it isn't close to being finished and was supposed to be a one-shot. It was amazingly fun to write, so I will probably finish it eventually, but for now this is it. I hope you all enjoy it. I haven't proof-read it, so I'm sorry for any mistakes.**

**SOMEDAY**

''He was scared, in case you didn't believe him. Did ya believe him, about your dad, not just knocking him around?'', he asked, quietly.

''I believe him'', she said softly.

''He's kept this secret for so long and he's not once lashed out at Seamus so what's happened this time?'', he questioned.

''I don't know''. She lied. ''When I got there Daddy was dead already''.

''Guns, and violence, killing his dad and Walker, that's just his answer for everything, innit? All the things that we talked about, or me loving him, it just didn't count for nothing'', he sobbed, his voice getting a bit louder as he spoke.

''No'', she whispered. ''You didn't hear the things my da was saying to him, okay? He was goading Bren, he was calling him names, horrible names, okay? So I'm not gonna have you hate him, Ste, okay?''. He was crying now, he didn't know how much longer he could keep it in. She placed a hand on his face and turned his head to look at him right in the eye. ''You understand what I'm saying?''.

''I'm sorry'', he croaked, his voice a high-pitched tone. Se started crying with him, could see his heart breaking in front her own eyes. His face of sorrow suddenly turned to a face of confusion. ''I thought- I thought you said that your dad was already dead when you got there''. Her face dropped and she nodded.

''Yeah, yeah he was...um...I'm trying to remember it now...um...it just all happened so fast...hmm...um...the gun was in...no, eh, it went off when I got there, yeah''. Ste had a disgruntled expression of rising frustration. ''Just like I told the police'', she nodded.

''But you must know, either he was dead when you got there or he wasn't''. She let out a sudden gasp of panicked air. ''Cheryl?''. She broke down, and tears rolled down her cheeks, and she was gasping for air that she just couldn't seem to breathe in.

''Oh, God. I didn't mean for any of this to happen, babe, I didn't'', she cried.

''What? What are ya going on about?''.

''It was his idea, and I said that there was no way that I could ask him to do something like that for me, you know? But he said that it was the only way, I mean, you know what he's like''.

''You couldn't ask him to do what?''.

''He said that no one would question it, that he could take the blame so I could live my life'', she cried. And then suddenly Steven realized what she had done.

''You did it?'', he asked, softly but sternly.

''I'm sorry'', she cried, ''I'm so sorry, Ste-''.

''Miss Brady'', the detective interrupted her. ''I need you to come down to the station to get your formal statement''.

''I wanna see Brendan'', he said, standing up from his seat next to Cheryl and darting through the doors behind the detective.

''No, no'', he muttered, trying to grab hold of Steven's shoulder until Cheryl intervened.

''Don't, wait. Please, will you just let him have a minute. I'll go to the station now, I'll give you a statement, I'll tell you everything, just him have a minute''.

''There are procedures we have to follow'', he said sternly.

''Please'', she begged, and he relinquished. Steven approached the room, his heart in his mouth. He placed his hands against the door and closed his eyes, exhaling a deep breath.

He pushed the door open, and his stomach turned, the man he loves lying in a hospital bed, helpless. He scanned the room, seeing the pipes and wires connected to this lifeless shadow of the man he used to be. He stood by the side of the bed, and put a hand on his chest, where the bullet hit.

He stared into Brendan's closed eyes, before watching the beeping heartbeat monitor. He looked back down at Brendan, eyes now slightly open. ''I didn't think you was gonna make it, you shouldn't be here'', he said, suddenly noticing Cheryl watching him through the window, giving her a stern look before she was dragged off by the detective.

''I know. I know what she did. I know what _you _did''. Brendan didn't stir, giving away nothing with his half-dazed facial expression. ''You need to tell the truth'', he pleaded.

''No'', Brendan muttered, quietly and softly, like it took all of his energy to say that one word.

''Yeah. You listen to me for once, you need to tell them what happened. And don't tell me that this is how it's gonna have to be because it's not'', he said, his voice shaky. He stood up, wiping tears from his eyes, and stood be the door.

''Do you even know what love is? Because I don't think you do, otherwise you wouldn't walk into me life, let me fall in love with you and then leave. It's not fair, it's not fair'', he said, crying into his sleeve. ''Or do ya want me to spend the rest of me life with people telling me that I'm better off without ya because I'm not. I've lost the kids, so you're the only thing I've left now, but it's enough. Because before I met you, I didn't even know who I was, but I do now, and that's thanks to you'', he said, turning around to see Brendan, still in the same position as before.

''You can't leave now, because we're just gettin' started, aren't we?''. He walked up to him, taking hold of his hand. ''And I know how hard it was to tell me about your dad but ya did, because me and you, we can do anything can't we? So please, just don't leave me. I just don't understand how you can do this to someone who loves you as much as me. I can't do this without ya'', he said, then gripping Brendan's hand tighter he said, ''Nothings ever gonna change, and I'm never gonna feel any differently about ya''. Brendan shuffled in his bed, working up the energy to speak.

''I'm never gonna feel... any differently about you... I promise you...okay? Everything's... everything's gonna be... fine... just fine. I love you'', he whispered, and then his eyes closed, and he released a heavy breathe. Steven became startled, be the sudden echoing beep coming from the monitor that just wouldn't stop. Steven stood up, frantically, and started tapping Brendan's face.

''Brendan? Brendan!'', he cried, rubbing his face. ''Brendan please, please! Don't leave me!''. The doors burst open, and Steven felt pressure on his shoulder from two doctors trying to remove him. He gripped the bed, refusing to move.

''No, no, no please'', he cried, unable to contain his grip on the bed, and he found himself being pulled away from the man he loves, forever. ''I love you, too!'', he shouted, even though it was pointless, he couldn't hear him, he was gone.

''Brendan!'', he cried, watching as the doors closed shut on his future.

* * *

Steven was sat on the end of their bed, staring at the wall. He had been sat there for hours, a blank expression of teary eyes and dilated pupils. He hadn't slept since the night before it happened. The night when everything was finally falling into place.

Walker was gone, Seamus had finally accepted his son for who he is, everything was almost perfect. He stood and looked at his unmade bed, still unmade from the last time he slept in it with Brendan. His eyes were stuck on the indent Brendan had left in the was so many thoughts running through his head, thoughts of _him_.

_''Cause today, we get our happy ever after''_.

He ignored the sounds coming from the kitchen, the clangs of pots and pans being washed, the sound of the television ringing in his ears. The sound of laughter was booming through the walls, hitting a nerve deep in his heart. His kids were completely oblivious to the thoughts running through his head. They haven't even asked where Daddy Brendan is. How could they just forget about one of the most important things in his life?

_''I'm never gonna feel... any different about you...''_.

A tear rolled down his cheek, slow and ticklish, but he didn't wipe it. He wanted to feel it, all of it, wanted to feel everything, anything. He wanted to feel anything because his body and mind were numb, and he was sick of it. He was sick of all the memories of tears and numbness, the aches and pains Brendan put him through before, and even now, when he's gone, he's still doing it.

_''Everything's... everything's gonna be... fine... just fine''_.

But those memories were something he would never forget, even if he tried. He closed his eyes, and let his muscles relax, and let the sounds of his family seep into a ringing in his ears, blanking everything out, because in this state, he can see and hear everything he wants. He tried as hard as he could to picture his kids, but one image kept creeping into his mind, and it just wouldn't leave his head. His hair, his eyes, his nose, his moustache, it all felt so prominent in his brain. Everything was irreversible now, all the things they did, have said.

_''I love you''_.

''Ste?'', whispered a soft voice. Ste opened his eyes releasing another tear, and looked at Amy standing in the doorway, seeing through her pained expression that her heart was breaking for him. ''Ste, I made some breakfast for ya''. He nodded, following her into the kitchen, and noticing the sudden quietness of the flat.

''Where are the kids?''.

''Doug's taken them for a couple of hours'', she said putting a plate of scrambled eggs on toast before him as he sat at the table. He played with it for a while, not noticing the worried looks Amy was giving him from across the table. She moved to a closer seat and took hold of his hand, looking him in the eye.

''Ste, you need to eat''.

''I'm not hungry'', he muttered.

''Well, you need to eat something'', she insisted, pushing the plate closer to him.

''No, what I need to do is make some arrangements for the funeral''.

''Yeah, after breakfast''.

''I need to put his name in the obituaries''.

''Ste''.

''I need to talk to Doug about food. Do I need to call a priest or will the funeral directors handle that?''.

''Ste, stop''.

''It'll probably be a closed casket, won't it? Seeing as he was shot and all. Do you think it will be closed?''.

''I think you should eat before it gets cold, and I also think you need a good night's sleep'', she said, forcing him to hold a fork in his hand. He stood up, dropping the fork into the food and headed for his phone on the counter.

''I should probably call Eileen and let her know''.

''Cheryl probably handled that. You should be over there with her''.

''No''.

''Ste, you're not the only one who lost him, you do know that''.

''I'm not goin' to see her, right?''. She stood up, and placed a soft hand on his shoulder.

''Ste, I know what you're going through right now, and I know how you must feel, but you're in no condition to be planning anything right now''. Ste jilted back, releasing himself from Amy's grasp.

''You don't know _what _I'm going through right now, none of you do. And I know how _you_ felt about him. You're probably glad he's dead''.

''How can you say that, eh? We had our differences but-''.

''Differences?'', he interrupted. ''Differences!? Amy, you took my kids off me because of how you felt about him. You marched right in here, stubborn, and not wanting to hear about how he was a changed man since you left''.

''Changed man? Ste, he's a murderer! He killed five people for Christ's sake!''. Steven opened his mouth, before quickly closing it. ''Thought so'', she muttered.

''Ah, Amy you don't know anything!''.

''I don't know anything?''.

''No, you don't. Don't go walking around acting like you knew who he was because you don't!''.

''Is that right? Well, I know he killed five people, including his grandmother and his own father!''.

''He had his reasons''.

''Are you really justifying a murderer?''. She paused for a moment. ''What were his reasons?'', she asked calmly.

''What?''.

''Come on, tell me. Tell me what his reasons were for killing his own father''.

''That doesn't matter''.

''Exactly! It doesn't matter because at the end of the day it's still murder. And it's not just about that. It's about everything that he put you through''.

''Like what?''.

''Like beating you to a pulp! When you used to come home with bruises all over your body from the night before''.

''Yeah, like I'm any better than him. What, did you forget about how I used to treat you. Did you forget about that time I cut your ponytail off, eh?''.

''Stop''.

''You see, I'm not as innocent as you think Amy. I hit him over the head with a baseball bat. I stole eighty grand off him hardly a year ago. I accused him of raping someone. And, believe it or not, I broke his heart plenty of times, too''. They stood in silence for a moment, until Amy started again.

''He raped someone?''.

''No. He was falsely accused. Again''.

''Is that so?''.

''Yeah, it is, Amy. So you can believe whatever you want, and you can refuse to listen to the truth, but that will _never_ change how I felt about him. How I feel about him''. Amy sat back, defeated. ''Now, if y-''.

A knock on the door interrupted him, and Amy slowly walked over to answer it. She knew she was being unreasonable, but she also knew Brendan was bad news from the start, and she couldn't let Ste fall into a bad state, even when he wanted to. Amy opened the door with a forced smile.

''Hi'', she greeted. ''Who are you?''.

''I'm Nate''. Ste sighed from the kitchen, thinking that it's probably Cheryl who sent him to spy on him. Amy raised her eyebrows in confusion, waiting for him to abbreviate. ''Eh, Cheryl's fiancee'', he added. ''Is Ste here?''. Amy heard a whisper from the kitchen saying 'No', and she rolled her eyes.

''Come in'', she said, opening the door wider and signaling for him to enter with her hand. She heard another loud sigh coming from the kitchen. Nate entered with a weak smile, and gave Steven just as weak of a comforting hug.

''How are you?'', he asked sympathetically.

''As good as I can be'', he sighed.

''Do you want a tea or coffee, Nate?'', Amy asked politely.

''I'll have a quick coffee, I can't stay too long''. Steven rolled his eyes.

''Why don't ya go sit down in the living room and I'll bring ya your coffee in a minute'', he ushered, pushing Nate out of the kitchen. ''One moment'', he smiled, before walking hurriedly into the kitchen. ''What did ya do that for?'', he whispered angrily.

''Ste, he clearly wants to see how you're coping'', she whispered back.

''No, Cheryl's sent him over here to spy on me''.

''What are you talking about? Why are you avoiding her anyway?''. Before he could answer Nate was back in the room.

''Milk or sugar, Nate?'', she smiled.

''Yes, um, two sugars please, and a small drop of milk''.

''We haven't got any milk'', he lied. ''I'll just pop out and get some'', he said before rushing out the door and closing it tight behind him. He lay against the door, eyes closed and sighing heavily.

''Ste?'', a quiet voice called from in front of him. His breath hitched,and he slowly opened his eyes. He knew he was caught, and he couldn't avoid the subject anymore. His face dropped to a picture of disgust at the sight of the woman standing there, like butter wouldn't melt in her mouth. She was wearing a lose tracksuit, and she looked like she hadn't slept in days. She looked a lot like himself.

''What d'ya want, Cheryl?''. She stepped closer, like she had the right to be anywhere near him. But not after what she just done.

''I wanna talk''.

''I have nothing to say to you'', he said dismissively, waking away and not looking at her as he passed her.

''Babe, wait'', she urged, pulling his arm in an attempt to stop him down, before he yanked himself from her hold. ''I didn't mean for any of this to happen''. He stopped, and turned to face her.

''That doesn't matter, Cheryl, because it _did_ happen. Brendan's dead and it's your fault''. Steven received a smack across his face for his troubles. If this was her way of making things better, she wasn't doing a very good job.

''How dare you''.

''How dare I? No, Cheryl. How dare _you_? How dare you let Brendan take the blame for something you done, and then think you can walk around like the saint you think you are''.

''I'm no saint, Ste, nor do I think I am one. But you can't blame me for this''.

''Well, you didn't pull the trigger but you might as well have done. _You_ kept Seamus in our lives, _you_ killed him''.

''That's not fair. I didn't know. I didn't know what he was doin' to our Bren-''.

''It doesn't matter, Cheryl! What's done is done, there's no going back'', he dismissed, walking away down the Chez Chez alleyway. He arrived at Price Slice, trying to ignore Cindy's eyes piercing through him. He payed for the milk, eyes on the floor the entire time.

''How are you?'', Cindy tried, after all, they did have a history together. A minibus crashed through both their weddings last year.

''None of your business'', he snapped, before taking the milk and walking out to find Cheryl standing in the street waiting for him. Steven raced down the alley before she could get a word in.

''Ste, wait!'', she called, chasing him, finally catching him as he entered the driveway of the flat. ''I'm sorry'', she sobbed. Steven darted towards her, dumping the milk on the ground and grabbed her by her collar.

''You're sorry? Cheryl, look what you've done! Sorry for what, Cheryl? Killing two members of your own family? Or just for killing Brendan? Sorry for ruining my life, or just sorry for yourself? So you can stomp around throwing tantrums because nobody wants to talk to the murderer who killed two members of her own family in one night, but at the end of the day you're the one who gets her happy ever after with the one they love!''.

''I broke things off with Nate last night. Do you hate me?''.

''I won't. Not if you leave''.

''Babe, you just have to say the word and I will walk into that police station and tell the truth''.

''No'', he nodded. ''Then you'll go to prison and he'll still be dead'', he sobbed. ''Go and get Nate, and tell him you made a mistake. Otherwise the sacrifice Brendan's just made for you has been for nothing''.

''What sacrifice?'', questioned a voice from behind them. They both turned to find Nate standing in the doorway. Steven looked to Cheryl, who looked like a deer in the headlights. It was too late for her now, they've just dug themselves a hole that would be impossible to get out of. The walls were closing in on her already, and it had hardly been a day yet. It was time to tell the truth. Amy came rushing out the door.

''Ste'', she called. Steven turned and walked away. ''Ste, where ya going?''.

''For a walk'', he replied. ''I need to clear my head''.

''When are ya coming back?'', she shouted after him. He didn't reply, because he didn't have an answer. He didn't know where he was going, or how long he'd be. All he knew was that he needed to get away for a while, needed space to get his head wrapped around everything that's happened in the past twenty four hours.

''What sacrifice?'', Nate repeated. Cheryl took his hand, gave a polite nod to Amy before leading him away.

''Not here, babe'', she whispered.

Ste walked for miles, never once stopped. He was gonna walk as far as his feet would let him, and until then, we wasn't gonna stop. He wound up on an open road in the country side. He was surrounded by open skies of rain and darkness. The bleak weather certainly suited his mood.

There was nowhere he could go for shelter, apart from the odd tree branch poking out from behind a fenced-off field. The closest thing to entertainment he had was hearing the odd crack of thunder or a flash of lightning.

He was beginning to forget the whole reason he came out here in the first place, until the first thought that followed reminded him: Brendan. He still couldn't believe he was gone, or get over the fact that he would never see him again. It seemed like yesterday that they were in Dublin, kissing on the bridge, or sitting on that pier looking out into the ocean, listening to Brendan's childhood stories.

He remembers the first time he spoke to Brendan. There was nothing special about him at the time, he didn't even know he was gay back then, little did he know that that man was eventually going to be the most important thing in his life.

That was the first time Brendan punched him, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. They had been through so much together, even though they weren't all good memories, he still treasured the times he spent with Brendan.

He thought of last June, back when Brendan offered himself to Steven on a silver plate, probably one of the biggest regrets he had from their time together. If only he had stayed with him, maybe he'd still be here. But maybe back then Brendan still need time to grow, to appreciate Steven, to realize he loved him.

And maybe, after Brendan blew himself half way to Hell, he should have kissed Brendan back. Even though he claimed not to, he knew he'd end up with Brendan again some way or another. All it took was the realization that if he had left for America, he never would have seen Brendan again.

But that would have been for the better. If Steven had left, then Brendan would have stayed in Dublin, and none of this would have ever happened. Steven would have learned to love Doug properly eventually. And who knows, maybe their paths would have crossed eventually.

Maybe things wouldn't work out between him and Doug, and he'd return to find Brendan there, waiting for the day Steven would come back. Or maybe Brendan would have gone to New York, to fight for him.

Steven admired the man, probably more than he should. He admired the fact that Brendan sat back and left him alone, all because he didn't want Steven to get hurt. But then for some reason unknown to Steven, he found him on that bridge, and took back what was rightfully his all along.

He remembers that night, and that morning, when he thought Brendan had done a runner, had realized what he had done and left. But he didn't, and as long as they were together, he never did. Sure, they had their up's and their down's, but in the end, they always got over themselves and made up, and, boy, was that fun.

As Ste was deep in his thoughts, he suddenly noticed the lack of rain falling on him. When he looked up, he realized he was standing under a large viaduct. For some reason, he felt the urge to go up there, so he made his way down the road, noticing a red motorbike in the distance.

As he got further to it, he noticed a black helmet hanging from the left handlebar. He inspected the licence plate, which was yellow and rusty. 'YRO9 GPZ', it read. He wondered who else was here, or was here, or who would have left a motorbike on the side of the road, where anybody could take it.

He shrugged it off, leaving it there to rust in the rain, and continued towards the top of the viaduct.

As he made his way uphill, through nettles and trees and bushes, his mind turned back to Brendan. He had so many questions that would now remain unanswered. He'd never know if they'd have ever got married, like he thought they would. They came close once, but that's it, just close. He wondered if they'd ever move away from Chester, buy a house, or even run a bar or a nightclub together.

He wondered what kind of experiences they would have together, like getting drunk together on a summer's evening, or go on holidays, like they were supposed to all those years ago. Would they have had a happy life together? Would they eventually break up forever after deciding it was for the best?

What would have happened if Cheryl had owned up to her own wrong-doings? There would have been nobody to get in their way, only each other. There would have been no Seamus, no Walker, no Amy, and most of all, no self-hating. Maybe Brendan was finally ready to be happy, to settle down, to get out of the drug trade and stop with the killing.

Maybe he wanted to live a quiet life where he'd get up in the morning, go to work, and then return home to have dinner with his boyfriend, or maybe husband, or maybe even his kids. But that's all Steven had left now... maybe's.

When he was finished with that thought, he realized he was at the top. There was nothing special up here, only a bunch of black rocks and a pair of train tracks. But there was a view, though, so he thought he might take a look. He saw a large building in the distance, behind some trees, and he thought that maybe he was closer to a small town than he thought.

The bike being left down there would make a little bit more sense. He suddenly became aware of how high up he was, and wanted to take a closer look. He attempted to look down, but his view was restricted by the railing, wishing for it to not be there. Without thinking, he climbed up, standing on top of the wall and looked down.

It was a high drop, about forty feet or so from his perspective. The drop would probably kill him, and 'probably' is being generous. He could end it all, right here, right now. Just take one giant leap of faith that it would lead him straight to Brendan, but chances were slim to none that there was an after-life. He imagined he wouldn't feel it, the impact.

It would all happen so fast, there'd be nothing to it, all he needed to do is take one step forward, and it would be over. All his pain and sadness would be over. He could do, he had the will power, but one thought in the back of his mind restrained him: his kids. He couldn't leave them without a father.

He couldn't leave them a broken man, couldn't put that kind of pressure on Amy. He couldn't imagine having to tell the kids that their mother is dead, and he couldn't put her through that either. He leaned closer, to take one final look over, inspecting the ground below.

He felt his foot give way, feeling the brick from beneath his foot begin to loosen and fall, plummeting to the ground below. He felt himself lose his balance, feet sliding from underneath him, sending him forwards, feeling more chucks of the wall collapse onto the ground below.

He clinged to the metal barrier, holding on for dear life, suddenly glad it was there now.

He didn't think he could hold on much longer, he hadn't eaten since yesterday afternoon and he hadn't a lot of energy to spare. The barrier was slippery from the rain, and he couldn't see himself holding on much longer. He looked down at his dangling feet, and thought that it was okay, that he was gonna be fine.

As his kids faces entered his mind, he soon snapped out of his near-death daze, pulling himself up with all the strength he could muster up. He pulled himself over as more of the wall fell from beneath him, and he soon collapsed onto the tracks, lying there and panting heavily. After a few minutes he got up and left, walking hazily down the thorny hill in his dazed state.

* * *

''Will you just give me a moment with Ste?'', she asked pointing at Ste who was roaming around the village like a wandering nomad, trying to occupy himself with something other than sadness. He still looked like he hasn't slept, even though it's been a week now.

''Of course'', he nodded, stepping out of her way.

''Ste!'', she called, walking towards him, tears welling up in his eyes as he turned and looked at her with a strained, sad, teary face. She cried in his arms as she brought him in for a hug. ''I love you and I'm so sorry'', she cried.

''Me too'', he whispered softly. He released her from his arms, and looked at her straight in the face. ''Now you run as fast and as far as you can, okay? And don't look back''.

''No'', she nodded. ''What about you?''.

''It doesn't matter about me'', he nodded, causing Cheryl to sob even harder. ''Because I'm always gonna love him''.

''He'll always love you, too'', she assured, bringing him in for another hug.

''I just wish he was here to tell me himself'', he sobbed.

''Oh, me too, baby. Me too. Thank you for lovin' my brother''.

''Go'', he said releasing her, and giving her a reassuring nod. They turned to Nate, who was waiting by the car. ''You make sure you look after her, 'cause she's one in a million, right?'', he called to him. Nate simply smiled, opening his arms as she approached him.

''So do I finally get the girl?'', he smiled.

''Yeah'', she smiled, wrapping her arms around him. ''Yes''. Steven simply looked on at their happiness, wishing it was his own. They were gone within minutes, speeding off in a red convertible. Steven noticed that as they drove off, she took one last look at the life she was leaving behind, the club, Oakdale Drive, him. And then they were gone, leaving behind nothing but memories, something that he'll have to make do with, because memories are all he has left.

He entered the deli, had to use his keys because he was early, and Doug wasn't here yet either. He took out a box from under the counter and began unloading it. He had hardly unloaded two jars of mustard before Doug was in.

''I didn't think you'd be in today'', he said reluctantly.

''Why wouldn't I be? We've got two deliveries to do'', he said, unloading more jars. ''And d'ya know that stock room hasn't been cleared out in weeks?''.

''Ste'', he muttered.

''Plus, I've gotta do all this paperwork'', he said to himself as he picked up a clipboard off the counter and headed into the kitchen.

''Ste!'', Doug shouted, trying to get him to stop.

''No, It's gotta be done, Doug. Right, they're opening up a new deli by the river. It's direct competition for me and you, that. Yeah, we gotta be on top of are game''.

''Stop, okay?''. Ste stopped what he was doing, throwing the clipboard onto the counter. ''You don't have to pretend with me. You shouldn't be here, the funeral was only yesterday''.

''Look, I really don't wanna talk about it''.

''I know how hard this is for you''. That's all Steven's been waiting to hear.

''Oh, do ya?'', he smiled, waiting for more clichés.

''To lose someone you love? Yeah, I got a pretty good idea. You're gonna get through this''.

''Here come the clichés'', Steven laughed. ''What are ya gonna say now? Time's a great healer? Well, Brendan's gone and he's never coming back, so I think I've got plenty of time to heal, don't you?''.

''Alright''.

''No, it's not alright, Doug. Yeah, don't stand there pretending you understand how I feel, alright? 'Cause you don't understand. How could ya? And it's not gonna be okay because I just lost the only man that I've ever loved'', he dismissed, walking out of the kitchen and shrugging his coat back on.

Doug followed him out, a sad look on his face. ''Ste, I know that you're hurting but that doesn't mean the rest of us have to suffer''.

''Aw, that's nice'', he smirked, before storming out, slamming the door behind him. Steven headed for The Dog, ordering both a beer and a whiskey. It was Brendan's drink, and it was Brendan's jumper he was wearing, but it felt like home.

He mostly just enjoyed the smell of whiskey, already missing the after-taste Brendan had left in his mouth after every time they kissed. He ignored a stupid comment from Darren, who was doing his best not to push it with the usual shit that comes from his mouth.

He sat at the seat that looked closest, because nothing like that really matters anymore. He drank his beer first, not wanting to drink the whiskey first in case the beer spoiled the after-taste.

He had hardly finished his beer before Doug strode in looking for him. He sat there, arms crossed, staring at the floor, not even noticing Doug approach the table. He caught Steven's attention as he pulled a seat out and sat down across from him.

''Ste, I'm sorry''.

''Don't worry about it'', he replied, not seeming entirely sure he was following the conversation. His voice was limp, not the usual upbeat tone he once spoke with. He seemed distracted, not looking at Doug, hardly acknowledging he was there at all.

''Look, why don't we just take off and go for a chat somewhere?'', he offered, pointing his thumb to the door. Steven played with his glass of whiskey, frowning at Doug. The last thing he wanted to do know was talk.

''No, you're alright'', he muttered, dropping the glass back on the table.

''Ste, please. Come back to mine'', he asked, placing a hand on Steven's.

''Wow'', he laughed. ''You've been waiting for any excuse to get me back into bed''.

''I'm trying to be a friend''.

''Well, I'll tell you what, if you wanna help, you can go back to the bar and get me another drink. And if you don't, you can just leave me here'', he gestured, ''all by myself'', he said through a pint glass as he swallowed down the last mouthful of his beer.

Doug eventually got the message, and bought him another pint. As he grabbed his beer, his elbow knocked into his whiskey, sending it to the floor. The loud crash got Darren's attention, who couldn't help but run his mouth off at Steven, who simply gave him a once-over in return.

''It's okay, Darren. I got this'', he dismissed, which was good enough for him, as he wandered off to find the dust-pan and brush.

''No'', he muttered, standing up. ''Don't be doin' that, right?''.

''What?'', he shrugged.

''Don't be treatin' me like some kind of half-wit''.

''Let's just go back to the shop for some lunch, we got some of that Italian bread in''.

''God, right, when are you gonna get it into your thick head, Doug? Right, I don't care about your fancy bread'', he said, standing up once more.

''You used to''.

''Well not anymore'', he grumbled. Darren came over behind him, watching them both closely as he began sweeping up the shards from under Steven's feet. ''And you know what? It's not even me that needs looking after round here'', he explained, putting on his coat. ''You wanna play the good samaritan, why don't you go and see that bird that tried to top herself'', he called after Doug, who was making his way towards the door. ''Because that is someone who has got real problems!''.

Steven suddenly felt a pair of hands grab him by the hood and sleeve of his coat. ''Right, that's it, you've had enough'', Darren muttered, pushing Steven out the door despite his protests. As they approached the door, Steven made a poor attempt at goading him into a fight, and soon found himself flat on his face against a couple of chairs. ''Why don't you grow up, Ste? You're not Brendan Brady, and you never will be, alright?''.

''You'll regret that, Osbourne'', he shouted, as Darren made his way back inside. He didn't really feel like going home, not in this state anyway, Amy would kill him. He couldn't go to Doug either, not after that show that he just put on for him.

He had nowhere else _to_ go really, no Cheryl, and certainly Chez Chez. He never wanted to set foot in that place again, not after all the memories it held. He decided to sit down by the river, cross-legged, and drink in hand.

How could anybody know what he was going through right now? They couldn't possibly know. They all think they know what's going on inside his head, the lot of them, when in fact, what they know is nothing. And he didn't expect them to.

''Heya. You alright?'', called a quiet voice from behind him. He turned to find George, who was walking along the river, who also looked as if he was feeling a bit down himself. Steven could tolerate him. For now.

Steven took another large swig of his bottle. ''Don't go falling in''. How does this kid think he's talking to? It's not as if he needs looking after. He was on his own now, he had no choice but to look after himself. ''Is there anyone that I can call for you?'', he asked.

'This kid just won't back down', he thought to himself, so he thought it was best to answer him. ''No. No I ain't got anyone''. It wasn't one hundred percent true, but even in this state he knew letting his kids see him like this would only cause problems.

He approached Steven at the end of the walkway, and Steven couldn't help but noticing this guys dress sense. He looked like Wham! threw up all over him, and he couldn't help but laugh inwardly at his comment.

''Come on'', he offered, raising his hand out for Steven to grab. ''Let's get you home''.

''Can't''.

''Why not?'', he asked, hand still raised.

''I just can't'', he muttered.

''You can come back to mine if you like''. Steven took a moment, before grabbing George's hand for a lift. He grunted as he pulled him up, before leading him back down the walkway.

Steven turned, throwing his beer into the river, much like what he had done with Brendan's whiskey last week, when he was drunk and out of control. It was that night, that marked the beginning of the end for the two of them, and it all went downhill from there, but he tried not to think about it.

''Do ya wanna drink?'', Steven asked, once they had arrived. It was George's house, and it was supposed to be the other way around, but he was getting impatient and wanted to make a start on the six-pack he had just bought from Price Slice on their way here.

''Oh, yeah. Thank you'', he smiled, watching Steven unhook two cans from the holder. ''Better make this one my last one, though, because I think I'm a bit drunk'', he laughed. ''I don't wanna be telling everyone that I love them and get all emotional''.

''Loves overrated, mate'', he said, handing George his can. ''Stay away'', he muttered, walking into the sitting room and sitting down. George took the rest of the cans and carried them in with him.

''I heard about Brendan'', he said, sitting down on the sofa next to Steven.

''Yeah, I'm sure you did''.

''You two were together weren't you? You must be gutted'', he added, once Steven gave him a nod.

''I'm gonna give you some advice'', he said, his voice slurred from all the drink. ''Don't ever fall in love, 'cause it'll ruin ya. Ruin ya life'', he smiled sympathetically, possibly for himself.

''You can't give up, just because he's gone. You'll move on eventually''.

''You don't know what you're talkin' about, Georgie Boy'', he grinned.

''Yes I do. I'm not a kid''. They sat in silence for a while, sipping their drinks, eventually moving onto their third each. ''You can't let the bad things from your past stop you from living the future'', he insisted.

''You've got it all sussed out, you, don't ya'', he smiled.

''No'', George laughed. ''I'm just sayin' there's someone out there for everyone. Just because it doesn't work out the way you'd hoped the first time, doesn't mean you should stop looking. Give it a while and you'll see. 'Cause they say the right person's out there for eveyone, and I do kinda believe that really because, if you think about it, there are two hundred million more men than there are women, and if, like they say, one in every ten people is gay, that's like ten percent, then that's like pretty much even then on the whole, isn't it? So it's quite a good statistic I think-''.

Suddenly Steven's mouth was locked on George's. He didn't know what he was doing really, or why he was doing it, and it was probably because of all the drink, but 'Fuck it' he thought. Before he knew it, he could feel himself hardening in his trousers. He stood up, holding out a hand for George to take.

''I've never done this before'', he said innocently, while grabbing Steven's hand.

''It's okay. You can trust me'', he smiled.

* * *

Ste woke to a warm body next to him. He smiled and wrapped his arms around Brendan, who was lying in the bed next to him. He took a deep breath, but the man didn't smell like Brendan. He sat up slightly, realising that this wasn't his room, and this wasn't his flat.

In one giant wave of grief, Steven realised where he was, and what had happened. He was in George's bed, and Brendan was dead. He removed his arm from around a sleeping George, and slowly crept out of the bed, making sure the bed sheets didn't pull at his body and disturb him.

He watched George as he put on his clothes, and before he woke, he left the room.

As he entered the hall, the toilet suddenly flushed and the bathroom door opened. Steven jumped backwards, closing the door until it was open just a crack so he could see out. Callum left the bathroom, and went downstairs.

Steven looked back, making sure George was still sound asleep, and when he was convinced, he made his way downstairs. He could hear Callum and Martha chatting away idly in the kitchen, and he slowly turned the door knob and opened the door, moving one foot outside.

He stopped dead in his tracks like a deer in headlights as he heard footsteps coming from the kitchen. He winced, turning, realising that nobody was there, and left. His heart was racing and his hands were shaking. How could he be so stupid? George Kane!

How could he have slept with someone the day after Brendan's funeral? He felt so dirty, couldn't believe that this was happening. What if he gets the wrong idea? What age is he for Christ's sake, 17? 18? He could get arrested for this if anybody finds out. He's best friends with a McQueen, who knows what they'll do?

He had a pounding headache, probably from all the alcohol he had yesterday, but a headache is nothing compared to the aches in his heart right now. He owes his life to Brendan, and when he dies, what's the first thing he does? Sleeps with a local student.

What would Amy think if she found out? He suddenly realised that Amy and the kids were still at home. He was gonna have some explaining to do. He headed for the flat, feelings eyes staring at him. The heavy gazes of half the village looking at him sympathetically was weighing him down.

He could only imagine the state he was in, how the circles around his eyes had now turned to grey bags, how his hair must be sticking in every different direction possible. He looked around, seeing Texas and Leanne standing outside the deli, just looking at him as he pottered around aimlessly.

Because that's all his life was now... aimless. He had no goals that he wanted to fulfill, nothing memorable he wanted to do. All he wanted was Brendan, and he couldn't even have that. Not now, and not ever. He saw Diane walking out of Price Slice, who gave him a once over and a sympathetic tut as she tilted her head, before walking off.

He couldn't handle it anymore, had to get away from prying eyes. He turned into Price Slice, walking to the back of the shop where he could remain hidden behind shelves. He looked to the right, seeing Sinead stacking shelves with chocolate bars.

He walked towards her, grabbing one from the shelf. She looked up at him, hardly any sympathy shown on her face. She knew sympathy was the last thing a person in his state needed. She lost the person she loved a couple of months ago, too, had a fair idea of what he was going through.

He grabbed a bouquet of flowers and gave both items to Cindy to scan. She made no comment whatsoever, not even to ask how he was doing, and he was grateful. She knew after what he said yesterday not to ask. Her eyes told him all he needed to hear anyway.

He threw a ten pound note on the counter and walked off, not waiting for any change. When he left, he looked over to Chez Chez, where there were policemen standing outside it. He wondered what they were doing back. Had they found evidence against Cheryl, or were they just packing up their stuff and leaving. Fortunately, they chose the latter.

''Hey'', a voice interrupted his train of thought. He visibly sighed, stilling his movements at the sight of George approaching him. ''Where'd you go? How are you?''.

''Fine'', he muttered, feeling a bit weird about this whole ordeal that they're going through.

''I had a really nice time last night'', he smiled.

''Yeah, right'', Steven laughed. ''I'm not exactly good company after drinkin' me own body weight in lager am I''. George giggled a little, smiling at him the entire time.

''Well I had a nice time''.

''At least one of us did'', he dismissed. ''You know, me yackin' on about Brendan and all that stuff''. He didn't know how to make himself anymore clearer than that. He hoped George would have picked up on the fact that he didn't want this to be a thing between them.

''Yeah, don't worry''.

''So thank you for taking care of me, I must have been a right mess when you found me''.

''It's alright, must have been fate, eh?''. Steven's face dropped, he clearly wasn't getting the message.

''Right'', he muttered. He pointed towards the Chez Chez alley, where home was. ''Look I'm not being funny, but-''.

''No, look, I need to get going anyway'', he smiled awkwardly. Judging by his facial expression Steven was beginning to think that George was finally coming around to what he was implying. That was until, George spoke again. ''But 'll see you later, yeah?''.

''Why?'', he asked, his voice strained.

''The fair's in town, um, I thought we could go, be a laugh, um, they've got this thing called the 'Sky Riot' where you literally left hanging upside down for like thirty seconds''.

''I don't really like heights, me'', he said, trying to worm his way out of going on a date with George.

''Well, me neither, to be honest, so let's just do Dodgems''.

''No, I'm gonna be flat out in the deli all day. Probably won't even have time for me lunch time pint'', he laughed, shifting around on his feet.

''Okay, well then, soon, yeah?''. Steven gave a polite smile, not saying anything. As George leaned forward for a kiss, he jolted back. Steven had to tell him out straight, enough of all this pretense shit.

''Right, what d'ya want, George?''.

''What? I just wanted a kiss''.

''What for?'', he questioned, knowing the answer already.

''We're together aren't we?''. He didn't look so sure of himself now.

''No'', he laughed. ''Nah, 'course we're not'', he smiled, suddenly finding pleasure in breaking his heart, getting revenge on vulnerable kids like the way Brendan used to do to him.

''But last night-''.

''Was just sex, George, that's all it was''.

''I thought you liked me''. Steven could see his heart breaking, and he felt a pang of guilt hit him.

''Eh, yeah. I don't wanna be with ya, though'', he said, pointing at both of them.

''Then you should have told me''.

''Well, I thought it was obvious''. George looked at the ground, a false smile on his face.

''I wanted my first time to be special. What was I thinking going with you?''.

''Your first time?'', Steven nodded, refusing to believe what he just heard. ''You're a virgin?''.

''Well not anymore''. Steven turned around, his mouth forming the shape of an 'O'.

''Well, why didn't ya tell me?'', he said, turning back around and raising his arms on confusion.

''I did''.

''When?''.

''I said! I told you that I've never done this before''.

''I just thought you meant a one-night stand''.

''Look, it doesn't matter now, it's just a misunderstanding that's all. Why don't we just start again?'', he said, placing a hand on Steven's shoulder.

''No!'', he cried, shoving his hand away. When was this kid gonna get the message? ''Don't ya get it? I don't wanna be with ya. Right, I would never go anywhere near someone like you anyway. Especially if I knew you were a virgin''. Tears began to well in George's eyes.

''Why are you being so horrible?''.

''Because, I've got to teach you a lesson. You can't go round pulling stunts like that, George. And you're not makin' me feel guilty because I took your virginity''.

''Believe me I wish it was with someone else!''.

''Oh yeah, well so do I!'', he said, waking away.

''You know what?'', he called, making Steven stop walking. ''It's no wonder you're so lonely, because I don't know anyone that would wanna be with a tool like you''. He was right. Steven was a tool, and now he was paying the price for it. Brendan's gone because of all the accusations he threw at him. If only he listened Brendan might be here and Steven wouldn't be in this mess.

''Ya tricked me! I was bladdered, and ya let me do that to ya! This isn't a rom-com, George, this is real life'', he said, shoving George back. ''This is what life as a gay man's like''. George looked to the ground, looking like he was about to cry any moment now. ''Well, come on, if you're not tough enough to handle that then don't even bother''. Steven turned around and walked away, not taking time to notice all the people watching, who had heard their entire conversation.

By the time they got home, he was calm. He had to be for his children's sake. When he opened the front door, he found Amy on the sofa watching television and the kids eating their breakfast at the table. Amy's face brightened when she seen him, yet another sympathetic smile that he had to look at.

''Hey, don't eat everything, yeah? Save some room for this'', he smiled, handing Leah the chocolate bar. Her eyes brightened at the sight of it in her hands.

''Oh, chocolate''.

''Eh, chocolate, for breakfast?'', Amy said skeptically.

''Why not?'', he asked, kissing Lucas on the top of his head. ''And don't worry, I've not forgot about you'', he smiled, revealing the bouquet of flowers from behind his back. She have him an apologetic smile as she accepted them. ''And I thought that when you've finished that, we could go into town'', he said to the kids. ''There's a new fair that's arrived''. The kids screamed with joy, until Amy had to step in and rain on their parade of forced happiness.

''Ste, we can't. I've gotta take them home. I'm so sorry but we've gotta go back today''. The once happy spirit of the room sank along with Steven's hopes of having a distraction from Brendan. Eventually the time came where it was time for them to leave, and Steven was panicking.

''You know we can't stay'', she informed, buttoning up Leah's coat. Steven tugged on his hair with his hands, desperate for her to listen.

''Can I just have a few more days, please?''.

''What about Leah's school, hm?''.

''Just- Just tell them that she's sick or something''. Amy finished buttoning up Leah's coat, and sent her over to Lucas.

''Can you just... play with your brother for a sec''. She brought Steven into the kitchen, keeping her voice low. ''Ste, you know we need to go back''.

''I need you here'', he said, close to tears.

''Hey'', she said, grabbing his attention. ''Look at me''. He raised his eyes from the floor, looking into hers. ''Brendan's bad news, he always was and he always will be, so in time, you're gonna come to realise that what's happened is probably for the best''.

''How can you say that?'', he asked erratically.

''Because it's true''. He nodded, refusing to accept that she was saying these horrible things about a dead man, that he loved. ''And at least now you can learn to stand on your own two feet. I mean, come on, you went from me to Doug to Brendan. You've never given yourself the time or the space to just figure out who you are''. He was crying now, the last thing he wanted was to be left alone. ''you know, and what it is that you want''. He rubbed his forehead with his hand.

''I can't do it on me own''.

''Yes, you can'', she encouraged, removing Steven's hand from his face. ''You can. Come here''. She wrapped her arms around him, hugging him as he cried against her shoulder. She released him and told the kids that it was time. ''Right, come on, time to go'', she said, opening the front door and urging the kids to leave. ''Ste we love you so much, that, we just want you to be happy. But you need to want that too, yeah?''. Steven nodded. ''Okay'', she smiled, before walking away. ''Wave 'Bye-bye' to your dad''.

''Bye, Daddy'', they both said, waving.

''Bye'', he said, holding back the overwhelming amount of tears that were welling up in his eyes.

''Time to be brave'', she called back, before they were gone from sight around the corner. He went back inside, closing the door. He looked around his empty flat, tears falling down his face. He had nobody anymore. Nobody.

* * *

Steven took another drink from his can of beer. He couldn't help but drown his sorrows after the sudden realisation of just how lonely he truly was. He really was living a sad life. And to top it all off, he was sad enough to be drinking... at twelve in the afternoon... in the park... alone.

It's not like he had anywhere else to go, though, or anything better to be doing. He couldn't sit in that empty flat for another second without wanting to kill himself, and he couldn't go back to The Dog after yesterday. He couldn't go to work either. Well, he could, but then he'd have to listen to Doug all day.

He wasn't in the mood to listen to him yapping away about how his love life is in going so well lately with that McQueen, and hear about how he knows what Steven's going through, and have to look at Doug tip-toe around him and give him sympathetic smiles.

He couldn't handle that right now. He made a mental note to give himself the rest of the week off. He couldn't stay at home forever, he had bills to pay, not that he wanted to live there anyway, it reminded him too much of his life with Brendan.

The near-summer sun beamed down on him through cloudless skies, creating a warm atmosphere for the world. He didn't like it, it was too happy for him. He wanted dark clouds and rain, and thunder storms that would knock the power out. Because in the dark, he couldn't see his surroundings.

In the dark, when he was lying in bed, he could say that Brendan was lying there next to him, because there was nothing that could prove him wrong. He wanted gale-force winds, because at least then there would some sort of noise in the house, as the air slammed into the flat, creating a whistling sound, and he could pretend it was Brendan whistling next to him. He sounded crazy right now, but he wasn't crazy, just desperate.

He watched a couple kids playing football a few feet across from him, and it reminded him of his own, and how he pined for them to stay with him. There was only three people in the world he wanted to see right now, and the man approaching him wasn't one of them: Tony.

He loved Tony, but he wasn't in the form for someone telling him to act responsibly, and to make the most of his life, because Tony was that kind of guy. A guy who wanted the best for him, and knew what that was, unlike Brendan who never did, always thinking that he was better off without him. He thought this was a perfect example of proving him wrong, he just wished Brendan was still alive to see it.

Tony sat down on the park bench beside him, not saying anything, just watched the two kids playing. He didn't say anything at all for a long while. Ste was grateful for that fact. They just sat there watching them for the longest while, as they took shots and scored and ran around doing over the top celebrations.

Steven laughed slightly at the dark brown haired boy, who scored before running in circles with his finger on his lips, as if shushing the crowds of screaming fans celebrating with him. The brownish-blonde haired boy struggled to score at all. He was smaller than the other one, skinnier too, but seemed happy all the same.

He seemed happy to be there at all, spending time with the other one, whether he was his brother, or his friend. At the end of it they shook hands, like real professionals, patting each other on the back as they shook. As they walked away, the bigger one put his hand around the other one's shoulder, guiding him. ''Let's go find mam'', he said.

They continued to sit in silence, and Steven wondered whether or not it was because he didn't know what to say, or if he really did know what Steven was going through. Steven knew it was the second. Tony knew that Steven didn't want to talk, but he didn't want to be alone either, and Steven felt a little warm inside, the first time in over a week.

The silence wasn't awkward, it was nice, at least for Steven anyway. Tony just sat there, his fingers inter-locked, resting on his thigh. He made no movement in an attempt to hold Steven, or to look at him. He knew that if Steven wanted to be held, he would ask. He was out-spoken like that, at least in recent years. He's not too shy or proud anymore to say or ask what he wants.

''Thank you'', Steven said eventually, and he meant it. Tony didn't reply immediately, waited for a moment. Steven wasn't sure why.

''I haven't done anything'', he replied, still not looking at Steven, instead looking into the distance.

''You've done more for me in the half an hour you've been here than anybody else has all week''.

''How are you?'', he asked, a few minutes later. It was a question he wouldn't normally answer, but this time he did, because Tony will actually listen, he'll care. He's not just some random person on the street asking him, even if they've never even spoken before, because after all, they're just trying to be nice, but not Tony.

''I've been better. Things haven't exactly been going my way lately, have they?''. Tony didn't answer, just kept looking in the distance. ''I've never felt more sad, more alone''. Tony looked at him then, right in the eye. It wasn't a look of sympathy, nor a look to say, 'I know what you're going through'.

It was a look to say, 'I understand', and that was all Steven was looking for from people at the moment, for them to understand. Not even Amy could understand, and she knew hi longer and better than anyone in this village. Tony looked away again, and so did Steven. ''I slept with George last night''.

''I know. I saw you earlier, outside Price Slice''. Steven stilled, his head full of shame and regret. ''Tony's tone didn't give anything away thoug, about how he was feeling.

''I didn't mean for that to happen, but he kept sayin' that we could be together, and I just lost it. Brendan was gone a week and I was already jumping into someone else's bed. I couldn't believe that I was so stupid''. He knew he was making excuses for himself, and he didn't mean to, but it was the truth. Steven realised that he hadn't drank in over forty minutes, not since Tony came.

''I don't think you're stupid. You're just hurting, you're lonely''. Finally, someone who gets him.

''I'm lost without him, Tony. I don't know what to do with me life anymore''. It was the God-honest truth. He didn't know what direction his life was going since Brendan left.

''Neither do I, but what I do know, is that you'll get through this. You've been through so much in your twenty three years, more than what most people go through in a life-time, you know? This is just another bump in life's road, so don't let it slow you down, or you'll regret it''.

''A bump? Tony, he wasn't just another notch in me bedpost''.

''Yeah, I know. But you know what I'm talking about. Don't let it ruin the rest of your life when you've got so much left to live for. If not for your sake then for your kids' sake''. Steven winced, Tony's words a painful reminder as to why he's sitting here and not at home in the first place.

''Me kids aren't even around. Amy brought them home this morning'', he sighed, a slight touch of anger in his voice.

''I'm sorry to hear that'', he said remorseful.

''Me too''. They sat in silence for another few minutes, until Steven broke it again. ''Tony? What do I do now?''. Tony remained silent for a moment, before standing.

''I don't know. Maybe you should go. I don't mean that in a bad way, but if Brendan and your kids are gone what do you have left to stay for. Don't stay here for me and Doug. It's time for you to move on and do what's best for _you_'', he sighed, and Steven looked away. ''But do what makes you happy'', he smiled, and Steven looked back at him, a slight smile resting on his face. Tony rested a hand on Steven's shoulder. ''Just take a breath, and let the rest come easy'', he said, before giving Steven's shoulder a quick squeeze and left.

Steven thought about what he said. _'Do what makes you happy'_. He edged on that for a while, not sure if anything could make him happy, before coming to a conclusion, finally knowing what to do next. He stood up and raced out of the park._  
_

He dashed into the village through the arch, smiling as the deli peered into sight, but it wasn't the deli he was looking for, he was looking for what was outside it. He walked straight to the delivery van, pulling on the door handle, but it was locked.

He groaned, frustrated, before looking through the deli window, watching Doug stand behind the counter yapping away to Myra McQueen. He didn't know why she even bothered coming in anymore, she always had something negative to say about their prices.

He thought about ways that he could do this without having Doug know, but couldn't find a reasonable path to take in order to do so. He was going to have to face him, whether they both liked it or not. He swiftly opened the door, not bothering to close it, and rushed his way to the kitchen.

Doug took immediate notice of him and followed. ''Ste? What are you doing?'', he asked, watching Steven pick up the keys and head off in the other direction, not giving him an answer. As he left Myra propped herself up and asked him how he was doing, not giving her answer wither, because she didn't care. Nobody did except Tony. Doug followed him out the door, trying to pull him back by gripping his arm.

He stood in Steven's way, blocking the door. ''Get out of my way, Doug'', he warned. Doug didn't budge.

''I'm not letting you in there. Give me the keys!'', he shouted.

''Are you drunk?'', he asked, looking appalled, breathing in the faint smell of beer off Steven's breath. He only had one can, didn't even finish it.

''No, I'm not'', he said calmer.

''Still'', Doug muttered. ''I'm not letting you in here, alright?''. Steven looked at Doug for a moment, contemplating what to do next.

''Fine'', he smiled aggressively. ''Fine, I'll just put them back then''. Doug relaxed a bit, still standing there as Steven made his way back to the deli. He suddenly took a u-turn, unlocking the van from the passenger side. He lunged for the door lock before Doug could open it, trapping him outside.

''Ste, please. Don't do this''. Steven started the engine, ignoring Doug's pleads. ''Don't do anything stupid'', he said, banging on the glass. ''Just open the door and we can talk''. Steven laughed, pressing his foot on the gas pedal and speeding out of the village.

Doug watched on, rubbing his forehead and sighing heavily. Steven turned onto a busy road, smashing his foot on the gas pedal. He finally knew what direction his life was taking, finally knew how to make ends meet. This was the moment the last nine days had been leading up to: the end of life.

He increased the speed, booming down the road, almost clipping the rear end of another car. He noticed his target turning a corner and driving towards him on the opposite lane, and a grin formed on his face. As the truck approached, nearing him, he took a deep breath, closing his eyes.

''I'm coming Brendan'', he whispered, maneuvering the wheel to the right. He squeezed his eyes tightly, because if he saw what he was doing he knew he'd never be able go through with it. Nothing was going to take this away from him. Nothing was going to stop him. Nothing.

The collision happened quicker than he thought. When it happened, there was no light at the end of the tunnel, in fact there was no light at all, only darkness. There was no pain, no feeling, no nothing. His life didn't flash before his eyes, and he didn't want it to.

He didn't want to relive all the pain and torture that those around him put him through, what he put them through. He didn't want to see the beatings, the kidnappings, the alcoholic mother, so he didn't see any of it. All he wanted to see was Brendan's smiling face, but he didn't even see that.

He could hear things, could hear the sound of the initial crash, the sound of car horns and the van tumbling, the cries he heard and people screaming. He heard sirens, and people talking around him, people asking, ''Is he alive?'', and, ''What about the other driver?''.

He heard the paramedics, and he felt his body tingle as the initial numbness began to wear off. He felt himself being lifted onto something soft, a feeling he had felt not too long ago, and he felt a number of things being strapped on around him as something was placed over his mouth. The soft surface began to rock, over and back, for what felt like ten minutes or so, the sirens blaring the entire time.

All these things he was feeling, all the things he was hearing, they weren't anything of the sort that he wanted to hear. He wanted to feel arms wrap around him, followed by the tingle of hair rubbing against his upper lip, a tongue pressing against his, to hear the word _'Steven'_ being purred into his ear.

His high hopes of ever having those feelings again crashed down harder than his van had when it hit that blanked out for a while, feeling the odd bump against whatever he was lying on. He finally felt himself awaken after what felt like a long time. He heard a beeping, almost like a heart beat monitor, and he heard what sounded like a television on low volume.

He heard a door open with a bang, and the sound of hurried footsteps, until something put pressure on his hand. It felt like another hand, gripping his tightly, and he felt a kiss being pressed on his right cheek, and a hand run through his hair, and then he heard the sound of sobbing. Whoever it was stood there for a while, stroking his face lightly, and he felt tickling, but had no urge to move. Finally the person spoke.

''Ste''. It was Amy, he could tell. ''Ste, please wake up''. He confused, had no idea what she was talking about.

''Ste, please just wake up'', she cried, and he felt a tear land on his arm before being brushed off. He opened his eyes, but everything remained dark, and Amy continued crying. He tried to open them again, but nothing happened, nothing opened. He moved his arm, but nothing happened, nothing felt any different.

He shook his whole body, but nothing moved. He began throwing himself around, like a constricted patient as if in a straight jacket, but nothing would move. He cried out, but he didn't hear anything. He cried, but he couldn't feel the tears roll his face. All he felt was a hand holding his own. Brendan was gone, and now he couldn't move.

Steven began laughing hysterically in his head, laughing at his own misery, thinking himself as stupid for not seeing this coming.

As if the world would allow him to die.

He wasn't that lucky.

* * *

It felt like weeks that he was lying there, motionless. Everything seemed to happen so slowly, like time had come to a stand still. In reality, it had been four days before he woke up. Amy had been there everyday, crying at first before pulling herself together, for her own sake, rather than for the kids'. It all became a bit of a routine by the third day.

She would act strong for Leah and Lucas, doing her best to brush the situation off like their Daddy was just sleeping. If only it were that easy. She'd cry at night, when Doug took the kid home to bed.

Her face was the first thing he saw when you woke, and her calling his name in relief was the first thing he heard out of unconsciousness. His vision was blurry at first, and he couldn't focus on anything.

All he could make out was a big black blob moving frantically for a nurse. It remained that way for a while, until eventually everything was clear again, and he could make out the detail of his children's faces, their beauty.

The next day he was closer to normal. He could see perfectly and he was beginning to get his energy and appetite back, however stubborn he was about not wanted to eat anything.

The painkillers yesterday left him unable to register anything that was happening, and he couldn't even remember waking up, are who was there, or what was happening around him.

He wondered if everything he heard while he was out was all a dream, if you can even have a dream in a coma. He didn't know what was reality anymore. The pain was a reality.

His neck was aching, and his shoulder was sore from the pressure of the seat belt. It probably saved his life. His thighs and chest were bruised from the steering wheel, and he had a few cut and bruises on his face and forehead.

As he thought of the crash, an image shot into his head: the other driver.

''How is he?'', he questioned, repositioning himself in the bed as best he could. Amy hummed a response, looking up at him. Her eyes were dark, and blood-shot from all the crying. She looked like she needed a good night's sleep. ''The other driver''.

She stared at him for a while. ''He's okay. He was here to see you yesterday when you were asleep, he was lucky. Just a few cuts and bruises. He's not pressing charges''.

''Charges?''.

''Ste, you were driving on the wrong side of the road. He had every right to get you done in, you could have killed him''.

''I wasn't in the right mind''.

''I know''.

''I'm sorry''. Amy paused.

''It's not me you should be apologising to'', she muttered, her eyes travelling across the room to a picture of the kids on the bedside locker. Ste suddenly realised what she meant.

* * *

He was home a few days later, but he wasn't strong enough to be moved out but he supposed he could lie in a bed at home, instead of taking up space in the hospital that he didn't need. He couldn't even walk, and his scans revealed three broken ribs, so he couldn't move, even if he wanted to. Amy kicked up a fuss of course, but eventually came round to the idea of Ste being at home. It meant she wouldn't have to drive the kids miles to see their Daddy everyday.

The drive home was quiet. It was just the two of them in the car, and they didn't really know how to talk to each other any more. It had been two long, under worse circumstances than the last time they spoke. He didn't know if they'd ever be comfortable around each other again.

As he looked around he noticed a couple of familiar details about his surroundings: the trees, the roads, the view of large buildings looming in the distance behind the tree-tops. He was almost home. He could see the roof of the club from here.

There was no doubt about it that Brendan's happiest memory of the both of them is in the club. The place had so much history for them. It's where everything started between them and where everything ended between them. Good or bad memories, Brendan was there. He held the club dear to his heart, wanted to run the place since the moment he set foot in it.

He said that to Steven before, on one of the nights when they got a bit drunk on beer and wine, and shared some of their little secrets they had never told each other. Steven remembered the conversation word for word, it was one of the best nights of his life.

Him and Brendan slumped on the sofa, 'sharing' a bottle of wine. It wasn't exactly sharing, Brendan was drinking most of it. Steven didn't mind though, when Brendan was drunk, he didn't have a care in the world. He let his guard down, and act all soppy with Steven, being all flirty and fluffy in pure domestic bliss. And then when they were both drunk enough, the conversation took a more sexual turn.

They never really talked about sex, only when things were heating up between them, but never just casually. They had talked about their first kiss, their first time, who it was with, what it was like. Even though they had both lost their virginity to girls, they were both too drunkenly fascinated by their stories.

And then they spoke about their first time together, and what that was like for them. And when they were both worked up enough, they had sex right there on the sofa, too deep in a daze to pull the curtains or the blinds, or to even care if they got caught, because in the end, Brendan wanted everyone to know that Steven was his, and vice-versa.

The thought brought butterflies into Steven's stomach, and a tear fell down his face. It like a long time since he felt like this, even if it was just a memory. But it wasn't just any old memory that he had, it was _the_ memory he had. That was a night that he will never forget, and the fact that even after months it made him this happy, just showed him how much it really meant to him.

He hobbled in the front door, and was forced into bed, just like the doctor had ordered, however unnecessary in Ste's opinion. That meant Amy was always there, fussing about, doing everything for him. She was in every five minutes, fluffing his pillow, checking up on him, making sure everything was fine.

_Is your soup hot enough? Are you warm enough? Is the TV loud enough? Are you tired? Do you want me to make you something to eat?_

It was all a bit full-on for him to even recognise the feeling of appreciation for everything she was doing. All he wanted was to get up out of bed and do something, or at least have some peace and quiet.

It was like he was on suicide watch, constantly guarded, constantly being protected. He didn't need it, he can look after himself. Doug was just as bad as her. Ste could have sworn there was something in the water around here. It was like he was glued to his bedside.

They just wouldn't fuck off and give him some privacy for more than ten minutes. After a couple of days he couldn't take it anymore. Doug handed him two pills, before leaving the rest of the jar on the locker, next to the television.

He reached for the glass on the bedside table, not before Ste grabbed it first, giving him a filthy look as he drank and swallowed down the painkillers. Doug sighed, hammering the last nail into the coffin of Ste's patience.

''What, Doug? I can look after myself, right''.

''Yeah, because that worked out so well for you the last time, didn't it?''.

''Excuse me?''.

''Come on, Ste, we all know, everyone's just two afraid to bring it up to you in case you do something stupid''.

''Know what, Doug?''.

''You tried to kill yourself when you crashed that van''.

''You don't know anything'', he dismissed.

''I don't know anything?!''.

''No, ya don't!'', he yelled, throwing his glass of water against the wall, watching it smash, and spray water across the room.

''I do know, okay. I know _exactly _what you're going through, because it wasn't long ago that I found myself on a bridge, ready to take my own life, too'', he whimpered, tears welling up in his eyes. Amy popped her head in the door, walking in when she noticed the glass in pieces on the floor.

''Here, what's all this?'', she asked, waving her arms in all kinds of directions.

''And I don't need you babysitting me anymore neither, right'', Ste snapped.

''You what?'', she asked, shocked and appalled at her help being thrown in her face. ''Where's this come from?''.

''Can you two just me alone for five minutes please! I'm being smothered here!''.

''We're just trying to help, Ste-''.

''I don't need it'', he interrupted. ''Now can you two just get out of my house for a while, I need some time alone''. Amy opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted by Doug.

''Amy'', he muttered softly. ''Let's give him space, yeah?''. She considered it for a moment, before turning around and leaving. ''We just want t be here for you, Ste'', Doug whispered as he closed the door.

When he heard the front door close, he started crying. He couldn't let them see him like this, so broken and in need of care, because it would give them the wrong idea, and it would only encourage them to be more 'supportive'.

He sniffled, looking up at the bottle of pills on the other side of the room, on the locker. We watched them for a moment, before tossing his covers to the side. His body ached as he sat up in bed, and shifted forward to the edge of the bed.

He stood up, taking measured breaths to alleviate the pain, wincing as he lifted his leg. His thigh gave way, forcing him to the floor, is face and upper-body smacking against the carpet. He cried in pain, tears rolling down his cheeks as he moved along the floor, barely crawling.

_The pain will be worth it _he told himself, _The pain will be worth it, it'll all be over in a few minutes. All it takes is swallowing a jar of pills, and it'll be over, and you can see Brendan again_.

He reached the bottom of the locker, reaching up and screaming in pain over the movement. His ribs were still killing him. His fingertips grazed the bottle, and he rushed forward, knocking the jar over, leaving it unreachable. The sound of pills spilling filled the room, goading him.

He rested his head in his hands, crying, wincing and screaming in pain thinking _W__hen will it end?_

* * *

He got a visitor the next the day. He almost stilled when there was a knock on his bedroom door, praying to God that it's not Doug back for round two, or better yet, to keep watch over him. Thankfully he managed to crawl back into bed yesterday before Amy came back and found him lying on the floor. She would have freaked and would have been more relentless in keeping an eye on him than before.

Thankfully, it was Tony, someone who understood what he was going through. He walked in timidly, leaving the door ajar, and sat down without saying a word. He sat in silence, waiting for Ste to do the talking.

''Hiya'', he muttered, his voice breaking as he spoke. He sounded broken. He was.

''Why did you do it, Ste?''. Ste considered pretending that he didn't know what he was talking about, but why bother? The truth was always going to come out as far as Tony is concerned.

''I dunno. I was desperate. Lonely. Sad. Angry. The list is endless''.

''How can you be so selfish?''.

''I miss him'', he whimpered, a tear rolling down his cheek. ''I'm sorry''.

''I don't want your apologies, Ste. I want you to happy, to be safe, not dead. When I told you to move on, leave, I meant go and live with Amy and the kids, or move away somewhere else. Anything else''.

''It's not always about what you want. Sometimes, it's about what I want, what I feel is right'', he sneered sarcastically.

''And sometimes it's about your family. You're supposed to be smarter than this''.

''You're supposed to be my friend''.

''And you're supposed to be a father!'', he snapped. Another tear fell down his cheek.

''I'm sorry'', he cried.

''You said that already''.

''You just don't understand''.

''I don't understand? Ste, I understand plenty, when it comes to losing something you love the most. We all understand. I've lost a baby for Christ's sake. I've lost girlfriends, friends. You just have to find your own two feet again and move on''.

''How am I supposed to move on from the person who means that much to me. I don't think I'll ever love anybody else''.

''You just think that. Over time your heart heals and you'll realise that it's not worth clinging on to sadness. You gotta find happiness, otherwise you're lost. I'm saying this from experience. I mean, think of the women I've been with. Mandy, Cindy, Jacqui. I never thought I'd ever move on from Cindy, but look at me now. I've never felt a stronger love than I do for Jacqui. I'm gonna ask her to marry me''.

''That's all well and good for you, Tony, but maybe the reason you moved on from Cindy was because she cheated on you. She hurt you''.

''Brendan was no saint either''.

''Shut your mouth''.

''Excuse me?''.

''I told you to shut your mouth. Don't talk about him like you knew him''.

''I think we all know who that man was. He beat you, and hurt you, and he was a monster for the most part of his life in this village''.

''You don't know anything about him''.

''Well, I know he killed five people in two and a half years. You're lucky you weren't one of them''.

''He'd never do that to me''.

''No, but he'd beat you black and blue, wouldn't he? Mess with your head until you couldn't see straight, you couldn't see what he was doing, you couldn't-''.

''Shut your fucking mouth! You have no idea as to what was really going on in his head, the childhood he had, the decisions he had to make. You know nothing''. Tony stood up, rubbing his forehead.

''Maybe I should go'', he muttered, moving away from the bed.

''Yeah, maybe you should'', he answered back, watching Tony leave. He had some nerve coming at you like that. Brendan didn't deserve that, he doesn't deserve any of this.

* * *

He remained quiet over the next few days, not really speaking to anyone other than his kids. He had nothing to say to anybody anyway, and when he was strong enough to walk, he became more independent again. Amy wasn't happy, she thought he needed a few more days to let his body rest, but he knew when he was ready.

He stayed away from the flat as much as possible. It felt too much like prison, like he was back in young defenders again. Even when he was out he felt like Amy and Doug were always following him, making sure he doesn't do something stupid. He's stupid.

He avoids looking at it for days, avoids walking past it, it holds too many memories, until he finally looks at, and gives in, not even considering being reluctant as he stands outside it, staring at it, wanting to go in.

He stood outside the door of Chez Chez, which wasn't really a door anymore, but a slab of wood leaning against the wall, covering the entrance. He slithered in past the wood, his ribs aching as he maneuvers his body around it. It's too soon, whether he wants to believe it or not.

He walked up to the spot, the spot he was standing in when he first met Brendan, when Brendan spoke his first words to him.

''These look rubbish to me'', he muttered, before being scalded by Cheryl, who wanted a happy ship. When Steven looked at him then he felt nothing, he was just Cheryl's douche bag older brother after all. Little was he to know that that man was going to be the most important person in his life.

He changed so much in the two and a half years he knew Brendan. When he first came here, he was a thin, arsehole of a man who had a tatty mustache that made him look like he had barely hit puberty. He changed. They both did. He thought he would never see the day Brendan settled down with a man, with Steven. That he'd ever be comfortable in his own skin as a gay man.

Steven got himself fired that day, going behind Tony's back to get a bit of cash, but he needed it after all. He had two kids that needed to be fed and kept under a roof, and Steven's paycheck didn't leave him with much choice.

He also landed himself a job that day, and a punch in the face that sent him flying back onto a table unconscious. It was the first time Brendan had hit him, and it certainly wasn't going to be the last either. There were bad times in this place, too. He looked around, remembering how this place used to be. It used to be full of life, full of opportunity. There would be theme nights on the weekend, quiet nights during the week, busy all the same.

Now, it was nothing. Nothing but an empty shell. Nothing like it used to be. It was dark, apart from the glimmer of light shining in through the gap he left between the entrance and the board of wood as he walked in.

The place was dusty, and smelled awful. It was hard to believe it was only left unused for three weeks. It was musty, and he felt a strange vibe about the place. He walked upstairs slowly, looking around him, taking in his surroundings, remembering. He stood on the top step, imagining it.

Imagining what was happening to Brendan in the corner at the end of the bar. Imagining Seamus lying on top of him, trying to undress him, trying to abuse him. Brendan lying there in a quivering mess of tears and sweat, begging for it to stop, begging to be any place but there, in that moment, in that situation.

A tear fell down his face, as he looked over to the bar, remembering when he was working a once-off shift here a couple of months ago, when he threw salt in Brendan's face. It was by accident of course, but somewhere inside Ste he thought he was in for a beating.

That fear was always going to be there, especially after his little outburst back at the flat about him not being able to change, never being able to change, not while his father was there at least. It was only meant to be for a week or so, he was meant to leave in the new year. If he had Brendan would still be here, and his funeral wouldn't have been all but a week ago ago.

This spot was where Brendan confessed to his first murder, out of five. Allegedly. It was the spot Brendan decided to monumentally bake bread with Steven, where they decided to take their drinks into the office before being interrupted by that monster of a human being.

This is where they shared more than just one kiss, where they had sex more than just one time, where they had fought so many times. Ste was sacked here, he was beaten here, he was caught cheating here, he was loved here. Brendan had loved him here, and that's what mattered the most.

He walked towards the office, grabbing the handle, sighing as he opened the door. The room was empty, other than an old, dusty desk and a tattered leather chair to match. His heart was breaking, ripping straight down the middle. He was on the verge of crying, before being interrupted by noise at the bar. He hobbled out to inspect.

''Someone there?'', he called, angrily, expecting Amy or Doug to be lurking in the shadows. A figure appeared from the darkness of the corner, and his face burnt through Ste's memory like the sun. ''You'', he croaked. ''What the hell are you doing here?''.

''I didn't have anywhere else to go''. Another sob story from the kid. What was he expecting, the village to roll out the red carpet for his return?

''Right, so you thought you'd break in here after what you've done''. He felt no sympathy for him. He didn't feel anything for anybody anymore.

''I'm sorry''. Like it makes a difference.

''Have ya any idea how much pain you caused Brendan? Both of us? Walker could have killed him''. Not that it makes a difference, he's dead anyway.

''I didn't wanna do any of it. I had to''. Is that the best he's got? _I had to_.

''You had to. You had to? Is that your excuse?'', he shouted, throwing his fist in the air, striking Kevin in the face. He doesn't know why he does it. The pain in his ribs knocks the wind out of him with every punch. But it's worth it. He gets lost in his movements, until Kevin's lying in a puddle of blood on the floor, motionless, and he cries as he realises what he's become, but it doesn't matter anymore.

* * *

He hovered through the street, his head as light as air. He felt dizzy, but somehow felt like he had just found his feet. He couldn't explain it. His ribs and muscles and hands ached, and his face was strained and stained with tears.

Blood traveled down his fingers, from the gashes of open flesh on his knuckles. He liked the feeling of the pain it gave him. He forgot what it felt like to feel. He limped through the alley, not even noticing as he bumped into Maxine, who shouted after him.

He was dazed, and as he wiped tears from his cheeks, he left a trail of blood along his face. His brain wasn't registering anything around him, but his feet were carrying him towards home. He soon realised that he wasn't even breathing, and he gasped for air as he neared the flat.

He arrived outside, and done nothing but stand there staring at the front door for a while. When he walked in, his face was clean, and his tears were gone. He kept his hand in his pocket the entire time, as he humored Amy in the kitchen, pretending everything was fine and all was quiet with him.

He got the sense that she knew something was up with him, but he knew that after everything he's said to her in the past week, she'd drop it, and that's exactly what she done. They humored each other, both pretending that they didn't even notice the tension between them, until Ste casually stated that he was going to the bathroom.

He washed his hand under the bathroom sink, and looked for a bandage, rummaging behind empty boxes and first aid kits, finding a jar of pills. An image of him on the floor, crawling over to a jar of pills on his locker flashed into his head. He could do it with ease, he could do it now.

The first thing he did was make sure the door was locked, he couldn't be caught. He couldn't have Amy get suspicious either, so he turned on the shower to make it look like he was doing something with himself.

His hands were shaking, his lips trembling, this was it. The moment was here when he would finally be reunited with Brendan. He unscrewed the safety lid, pressing it down and turning, before pressing the rim against his lips. He closed his eyes and whispered 'I'm sorry', before necking the bottle.

The pills were dry, and one of them got stuck in his throat, not budging. He coughed, attempting to spit it up, and he began to panic. He started gagging, and he felt like he was gonna throw up. He leaned over the toilet, and puked.

He watched as he threw up the entire bottle's contents into the toilet, leaving them non consumable. He watched as he missed out on yet another chance to end this pit of despair that he calls his life. The pit is never ending, all he wants is to reach the bottom.

''Why?'', he cried, staring up at the ceiling. ''Please''. Tears rolled down his face, and he had no choice but to flush the evidence away. He came out of the bathroom, ignoring Amy calling him into the kitchen. He felt dizzy again, like he was about to collapse. Her voice echoed through his head, and he could see her shadow in the kitchen through his blurry vision.

He entered his bedroom and fell down onto the bed, and he couldn't keep his eyes open any longer, becoming a slave to sleep. The last thing he remembers is hearing Amy come into the room calling his name. As he closed his eyes, he watched her run towards him.

When he wakes it's brighter than before, and it hurts his eyes to open them fully, and his eyes are strained by the light coming through the window. His mouth is dry and groggy, and the joints in his body ache with every movement. He wasn't ready to be up and out of bed.

He realises he's in a different position than before, he's not sprawled out on the bed like he was when he went to sleep, he's under the covers, and his head's resting on a pillow. Amy must have shifted him last night. He's grateful. A sore back and a creek in his neck is not what he needs right now.

When gets out of bed, his body is stiff and sore, and despite having had a good nights sleep, he's exhausted. He wraps a dressing gown around himself. Brendan's dressing gown. He presses his nose into the material, inhaling the scent of Brendan and his favorite aftershave. The smell of memories.

He checked his phone on the locker. '12:26pm. Friday April 19th'. The nineteenth. That can't be right. That would mean he's been asleep for two days. His thought process was interrupted by the door opening. Amy looked in, smiling softly when she saw him.

''Somebody's awake. Finally''. He didn't reply. She sat down beside him, not looking at him. They sat in silence, until Amy began rummaging through her pocket, taking out a bottle. ''Ste, what's this?'', she asked, her tone stern, holding up the bottle.

''An empty bottle of pills'', he answered, not sure where this was going, but predicting it was leading to another lecture.

''And why is it empty?''.

''Because we ran out?'', he tried, still not following.

''No. Ste, I found this jar on the bathroom floor. Two days ago, before you fell asleep for two days''. He didn't look at her when he realised his mistake, kept his eyes firmly on the floor. ''And this bottle is empty because you tried to take them all at once, didn't you?''. He didn't look at her, or answer her, and that was all the confirmation she needed. ''Why?''.

He looked up at her, his eyes filling with tears. ''Do you think I want this? Do you think that it's what I want?''.

''No, I don't think it's what you want. And I don't think it's what you need either''.

''Of course it's not what I need. What I need is Brendan'', he cried.

''No ya don't'', she sympathised, rubbing his shoulder.

''Yes I do''.

''Why?''.

''Because he made me this'', he cried, pointing at his tired, sad, stubbly, worn-out, black eyed face. ''He made me do this''.

''Ste''.

''No!'', he shouted, shoving her hand off him. ''Don't touch me!''. He stood up and walked out.

''Where are ya going?'', she called.

''To find Brendan'', he muttered, storming outside the flat and around the corner.

''What's that supposed to mean?'', she shouted after him.

* * *

The graveyard was cold, and the fact that he was wearing nothing but his pyjamas, slippers and a dressing gown didn't help him. His body didn't ache anymore, instead it was numb from the cold. He couldn't feel his hands, and his ears and nose were killing him. He could feel a cold coming on.

His heart was pounding, and anger was rising in his chest. Steam was practically billowing from his ears. He was tired of feeling like this, one minute he loves him and the next minute he hates him. But it was always like that he supposed, and he was too angry at himself and the world to care that he'd be madly in love with the man tomorrow.

All he was doing is wasting his time and energy, something he was greatly lacking in over the last few weeks. He hasn't been here since the funeral. Since Mitzeee and Declan and Eileen had all been here. Padraig was even here. They didn't speak to each other, he doesn't know the history. Declan does, and he understands too.

Cheryl had been over, and Nate too, and she's pregnant too. She's pregnant, she's engaged, she lives in a castle in Ireland. How _great_ is it for her to lead that life. To live a life she doesn't deserve, because she's tainted his, and ended Brendan's. Selfish cow.

Despite his grief and exhaustion, he still remembers every moment, every movement, every word uttered that day.

His body had been in the church all night, in a coffin at the top of the aisle, just in front of the alter. There was a candle on it, and some decaying flowers, and picture in a black, sharp frame. A picture of him and Steven, sitting together at College Coffee one rainy Saturday afternoon in January. The twelfth, he thought.

He remembers the day well. Only in this photo, Steven was cut out from it, and it was blown up and zoomed in on Brendan's smiling face. The memory cut, just like that. He was happy then, and his expression showed it. They had fought a couple of days before, over Seamus' attempted murder. If he could only go back in time and tell Joel himself. ''Finish the job'', he'd say.

They spent the night apart, and it broke your heart to see Brendan's face when you told him to go home in the middle of the argument. He didn't want to be there, sleeping in the same house as that monster of a human being, but you were too angry to care, and you didn't know the full extent of his actions yet.

He left without another word, just shot you a look that will haunt you forever. He gave you space the next day, and waited for you to find him. You'd have called it ignorance if you hadn't seen him walking through the village with a look of pure devastation.

He had thought that was it between you. The final nail in the coffin of your relationship. He was being silly, obviously. But Ste could tell the moment he saw Brendan's smile when he walked into that club that day that he was in this for the long-run. His forever, and he forever Brendan's. The relief poured out of him, and he held him tight for the longest time.

He treated you right that weekend. You said it wasn't necessary, but he insisted on making it up to you. He brought you out for lunch to College Cofee, and you spent hours there, just talking and smiling and flirting, not a care in the world between either of you. You went out for dinner that night, and to the cinema, and then he made love to you for hours into the night.

Brendan Brady wasn't the romantic type, but he was when he wanted to be. He smiled at memories the picture brought to him, and as Amy guided him away from the coffin and into the front row of seats, a tear dared escape down his cheek. He sat next to Declan, Eileen, Padraig and Cheryl in the front, and everybody who bothered to show their face came up and shook each of their hands.

Declan gave a speech up at the alter, about how he lost touch with his father since he left Ireland, and how they were finally on the right track again, and how his whole life all he wanted was to be just like him. And when he sat down he broke down in tears in Steven's arms, and Eileen gave him a tight smile, holding Padraig close.

Cheryl gave one shortly after, talking about their childhood together, and at the end invited everyone to a luncheon in a restaurant after the funeral. Ste was up next, and when he got to the microphone, the world froze around him. He didn't know what to say, or how to condone his love for someone who apparently killed five people.

Nothing came out of him only tears, and he found himself wrapped in one of Mitzeee's hugs as she held him, moving away from the alter. She took him outside, and soothed him as the sat together. He looked up at her and saw that she was crying too.

''Brendan was a great guy, no matter what anybody thinks. _I_ should know, he was my best friend, even if we did have our low points, and even if we never really got to say a proper goodbye. _You_ should know how great he was, he was gonna marry _you_ one day''.

''Really?'', he sniffled.

''Yeah'', she smiled, another tear rolling down her cheek, smudging her mascara. ''Guess I should have worn water proof, eh?'', she giggled. ''It's true. What I said. We talked about it once. It was one of our 'never-bring-this-up-again' talks. He said you'd be engaged before the year was over, starting a new life together somewhere else. Somewhere his father couldn't get to him''.

''He told ya then''.

''Yeah. He told me everything. He spared no detail''.

''Why couldn't we just get get the happy ending we deserved?'', he cried. Mitzeee pulled him into a hug.

''I don't know, Love. I don't know''.

Why couldn't they just end up happy? Instead they ended up here, in a cold graveyard, and Ste was staring down at Brendan's gravestone, angry at him for what he's become.

''Why do you do this to me? I just wanted to be happy, to love you and spend the rest of my life with you. Why can't you just listen to me, like I told you to listen to a hundred times. And each and every time it just goes in one ear and out the other. You always end up doing what ever you want anyway. Just once I wanted our relationship to last longer than three months, and for you to not hurt me.

I guess that was too much to ask, eh? I mean, you get my kids taken off my, you deal drugs, you promise me a life with you and the kids, and then you tell me, ''Oh no, sorry, this is how it has to be'', and you're gone again, breaking my heart all over again. Just once I wanted it to turn out right, but that's just a joke isn't it? My whole life is one big joke.

I mean, how do you expect me to go on after this? How do expect my heart to heal? I loved y-''. He choked on his own words. ''I love you'', he cried, and his knees weakened, sending him to the ground. ''I love you. I love you''. He felt a hand on his shoulder, and he looked up to find Amy sitting beside him, and she wrapped him in her jacket, sensing the chills that shivered down his spine.

''I love him''.

''I know'', she whispered, kissing his hair softly.

**TBC**

**Please review and let me know what you think, as it might boost my confidence and love for the fandom. Thanks :)**


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